


On a Hazy Morning

by Spoony



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Drunken Memory Loss, Drunkenness, Hangover, M/M, pet death mention, surprise russian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-27
Updated: 2016-11-27
Packaged: 2018-09-02 11:45:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8666275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spoony/pseuds/Spoony
Summary: Alternate timeline in which everything is the same except Viktor arrives in Hasetsu late at night and his first encounter with Yuuri is when Yuuri exits a bar drunk off his ass.





	

**Author's Note:**

> *shouts from a cliff* IS MAKKACHIN MALE OR FEMALE  
> I don't know. We're going with male till proven otherwise.

The morning light was way too bright for Yuuri's taste. The curtains were closed, but it felt like someone was shining a spotlight right at his face. He silently chided himself for letting Nishigoori drag him along for drinks. Alcohol didn't agree with him, and he didn't quite agree with alcohol either, but it was difficult to refuse an invitation from a pumped-up Nishigoori. He should have at least had enough restraint to keep his drinking to a minimum. But no. Thanks to his weak will, a hammering headache was doing its best to kill him and his legs had never felt so heavy before. All he wanted was to sleep a little longer. He felt really warm and safe with the bed covers clinging to him, pulling him closer with a sleepy sigh and... Bed covers shouldn't have been able to do that. Bed covers shouldn't feel like _skin_.

Yuuri's body tensed and his heart rate accelerated. There was someone, a human someone, sleeping next to him. Or more like, around him. To top it off, the mattress under him was too hard to be his. It was too hard to be a mattress per se. Where was he? Who could he be with? From the feeling of the arms around him, he was pretty sure that the other person was male, but... It couldn't be Nishigoori, right? He held his breath and slowly cracked open one eyelid. He was met with a blurry wall of beige. He blinked a few times and ended up with both eyes wide open, but the beige remained blurred. That was when he realised that his eyes were basically useless without his glasses. As for the whereabouts of those glasses...

He turned slowly to face the other way. Or more precisely, he tried to. He managed to roll onto his back before the movement was met with two simultaneous whines from beside him and somewhere around his legs. The hands around him tightened and a weight fell on his chest. The weight on his legs shifted and whined again before settling down. Now that Yuuri was more awake, he could feel both of the weights breathing. He looked down and was even more confused to be met with a blob of silver where the sounds of relaxed breaths were coming from. He really needed to get his glasses.

He moved his gaze to his side and squinted in an attempt to make out any sort of glasses-like shapes. There was one on the floor, at his eye level. He let out a relieved squeak and reached his hand out. He couldn't quite reach the shape though. His body was heavier than ever with not one but two extra weights on it, and all he could do was pathetically shimmy towards the shape with his fingers stretched out to their maximum length. It still wasn't quite enough, so after resting for a while he tried his best to raise his upper body. It lifted slightly, but not enough. He slumped back to the futon and sighed in defeat. An annoyed huff came from on top of his chest and the weight shifted. A long beige shape stretched past Yuuri's vision and suddenly he could feel the familiar plastic of his glasses. The long beige shape flopped onto Yuuri.

"Thank you", Yuuri said in a slightly high-pitched voice.

"Don't mention it", came the answer in lazy English.

English. Yuuri's brain kicked into overdrive. He was sure he had been drinking with Nishigoori. He had no memory of leaving Hasetsu. He was fairly sure that in the hypothetical scenario that he would have boarded a plane and flown overseas, he would have at least remembered that much no matter how drunk he would have been. No, this had to be Japan. He could definitely smell the familiar organic scent of the tatami mats.

With a shaking hand (because the other one was trapped under the weight of it-speaks-English), Yuuri put on his glasses. After poking himself in the eye once. He blinked through the tears and grew increasingly confused when the silver blob on his chest sharpened into the top of a head. He was looking at someone's slightly disheveled silver locks. For a wild moment, all he could think of was: _they look so soft, I wonder how it would feel to touch them_. Then the head they were attached to lifted up and turned to face Yuuri with a huge yawn.

"Good morning, Yuuri." The voice was a bit husky because its owner had just woken up, but Yuuri recognised it. He also recognised the strikingly blue eyes the man halfway on top of him was now rubbing with his hand. 

"Um, good morning", Yuuri whispered. He silently wondered whether his voice had always been so high-pitched.

"Haha, by the looks of it you have no idea what's going on", the man laughed sleepily after he caught sight of Yuuri's expression. "It's not good to drink so much that it'll affect your memories, you know!"

Katsuki Yuuri, 23 years old, had unlocked the life achievement of "Get lectured about getting drunk by your lifelong idol". Because the man he had apparently slept through the night with was, without a doubt, his idol, Viktor Nikiforov, 27 years old, Russia's living legend, figure skating world champion multiple times over. How they had ended up in the same futon, Yuuri had absolutely no idea. He was starting to question whether it was reality to begin with.

"That's the face of someone who's questioning whether this is reality or not", Viktor said with a sly smile. "As your coach, I can assure you you're very much awake, though, so no need to worry!"

Yuuri thought his brain might actually stop working at any moment. "As... as my _whatnow_?"

Viktor's expression turned into a pout. He shifted his position to cross his arms on Yuuri's upper body and rested his chin on his hands. Yuuri was very much trapped. He could feel heat rising up on his face because of the intensity in the blue eyes that stayed locked on him.

"Yuuri... You don't remember even that? You were so happy about it when I told you last night... Something about being my fan ever since you were a kid."

"Wait, wait, _wait_ ", Yuuri exclaimed. "Can... can you just... rewind... I mean... _what_?" He had never been so confused in his entire life.

Viktor tilted his head to the side. A rather defined cowlick bounced up and down, which Yuuri's jumbled up brain found incredibly endearing. For the second time in a very short while he was overcome with the urge to touch Viktor's hair. This time he started to actually stretch his hand, but quickly disguised the movement by pulling his elbows back to lift his upper body ever so slightly in order to get a better look at Viktor and to release the tension in his neck.

"Eh, let's see, where should I start explaining?" Viktor mused. "We arrived in Hasetsu late last night..."

"We?"

"Makkachin and I." Viktor pointed towards the end of the futon. Yuuri looked around him, and sure enough, the source of the weight on Yuuri's legs turned out to be the big poodle, who was sprawled on his stomach and still fast asleep. Yuuri felt stupid for not realising it sooner. Of course Viktor wouldn't leave his beloved poodle behind when flying almost halfway across the globe.

"So as I was saying", Viktor continued, "we arrived in Hasetsu last night, and I mean since I had no idea where you lived we were just looking for a place to stay for the night."

According to Viktor's story, he and Makkachin had been looking for a hotel of some sort with little success. Viktor couldn't read Japanese, and there he'd had trouble finding anyone to ask for help at such a late hour. It had been pure coincidence that he had happened upon two drunken men leaving a bar. It had been an even bigger coincidence that when he had called to them in English, they had turned and one of them had responded merrily in fluent (albeit slurry) English. 

"Hi~i, help we sha~ll! Whaddoya need?"

The biggest coincidence of all...

"Yuuri? Yuuri Katsuki?" Viktor recalled that surprise wasn't a strong enough word to convey his feelings at the moment.

("It felt kind of like fate, almost!")

Yuuri had looked confused when a stranger had called him by his name. Viktor supposed that had to do with his drunken brain forgetting that he was in fact a world-class figure skater.

"Whaddoya want with m-", Yuuri had stopped mid-sentence, eyes wide, staring at Viktor. Then he had let out a loud squeal, covered his mouth with both his hands and started blabbering fast Japanese to the man next to him. Viktor had caught his name a few times.

("I-I didn't squeal... did I?! I didn't, right?!")

("You did! Ah but don't worry, your fanboy mode was adorable.")

( _"Oh my god!"_ )

"Um, excuse me", he had called out to the two. It had been adorable how Yuuri had jumped a little and made a visible effort to straighten his back ( _"Oh my god!"_ ) with a blush creeping up on his face. Viktor hadn't been sure whether it was because of the alcohol or something else, but whatever the case it had looked cuter than he could have imagined. ( _"Please, I honestly don't need the details!"_ )

"I'm really glad I ran into you, Yuuri!" Viktor had said. "I was actually going to come looking for you first thing tomorrow."

"Wh-, me, why, I mean, huh?" 

At that moment the other man had butted in with some Japanese. Yuuri seemed to have explained the situation, because the other man had smiled, patted Yuuri on the back and suddenly pushed him forward towards Viktor. Yuuri had stumbled and let out a quiet, high pitched "eep" when Viktor caught him in his arms. The other Japanese man had swayed off with a wave of the hand and (most likely) some sort of Japanese farewell.

"Can you stand?" Viktor had asked. Yuuri had stared at him blankly for a while, glasses askew, before apparently coming back to his senses and trying to jump back. "Try" had been the operative word there, as Yuuri's legs seemed to have become jelly and Viktor had had to steady him again.

"I-I cam completely able stand to-" Yuuri had stammered.

"Doesn't really seem like it now, does it?" Viktor had said and sighed. "I'm going to have to scold you about this when you sober up, you know? It's no good to drink this much."

"'S was just a couple glass..."

"Yuuri, I don't plan on coaching drunkards."

"Huh?" 

"Ah", Viktor realised he had yet to bring up the important subject. "The reason I came here is because I'm going to be your coach. I'll definitely make sure you'll win the grand pr- Yuuri?!" He had been surprised, and somewhat alarmed, to see Yuuri's eyes glisten with overflowing emotions.

"Is this a dream?" Yuuri had whispered. "It has to be, right? I mean, you're a god, you've been a god always, I've been like, your biggest fan ever since I was a kid, I, it's just, there's no way..."

Viktor had been at a loss for words. He was definitely popular, one would expect that from the top skater in the world, but to hear such a heartfelt confession in the middle of the night from the person whose skating had charmed him to the point that he'd dropped everything and flown halfway across the world... That was a first. He hadn't been sure how to react, so he had opted to change the subject.

"Let's get you home first, shall we? Can you lead the way?"

Yuuri had giggled and clung to Viktor's jacket. "Viktor's asking me to take 'im home. Viktor freaking Nikiforov wan's me to take 'im ho~me."

Viktor had found the situation somewhat amusing. "Yes, I am asking you to take me to your home. Can you do that?"

"I know where it is", Yuuri had announced proudly and tugged at Viktor's jacket.

( _"Oh no!"_ )

("You sounded so proud though, it was really cute.")

(Yuuri groaned incoherently.)

They had made their way to Yuutopia with Yuuri clinging to Viktor for support and babbling about things like the Ice Castle and trying to imitate Viktor's skating and watching all of Viktor's competitions and how he'd been impressed by all the jumps Viktor had landed, and a number of things Viktor had honestly not been able to understand because the more Yuuri had talked, the more his speech had slurred, and here and there Japanese words had started to mix in. Viktor had listened, nonetheless, and reacted here and there with nods and hums. Makkachin had been trotting around them excitedly. Viktor had been in for another surprise when Yuuri had suddenly changed from bubbling and energetic to quiet and sorrowful.

"He's a lot bigger than Vicchan", Yuuri had whispered. He had then responded to Viktor's quizzical look by talking about Vicchan for a while. How he'd started to raise a poodle because of his admiration of Viktor. How he'd named the dog 'Viktor' in his honour. And, ultimately, how he'd received word that Vicchan had passed away, and how much he regretted not being able to be there. Makkachin wasn't Viktor's first pet, so he could relate. He was, however, absolute rubbish at consoling people. He had opted for silence, and after a while of being lost in thought, Yuuri had changed the subject again. 

Once they had reached Yuutopia, Yuuri had let Viktor and Makkachin inside and instructed them (yes, Makkachin included) to remove their shoes. ("I did _not_ tell a dog to remove his shoes! I can't have!" "Hm, which one of us was it who has memories of last night?") In the hall, they'd come across Yuuri's sister. She had been shocked, to say the least, to find a foreigner and his dog escorting her hammered brother home. Yuuri had explained the situation (or so Viktor assumed), because the next thing he knew, Yuuri's sister had set up a futon for him in an unused room, and Yuuri was adamantly telling him that it was "time to go night-night".

( _"Oh my god!"_ )

Once the futon had been set up and Viktor had moved his suitcase to a corner of the room, he had asked Yuuri for the way to the bathroom and then left him to his own devices. Once he had returned to the room, he had found Yuuri sprawled on the futon fast asleep with Makkachin next to him. He hadn't had the heart to wake either of them up, so he had merely taken off Yuuri's glasses and moved him enough so that he could get the covers from underneath him and slide next to him onto the futon. 

"And that's basically what happened."

Yuuri had hidden his face in his hands but his beet-red ears were clearly visible. It didn't seem like his headache was going to be cured anytime soon.

Elsewhere in Hasetsu, a very hung-over Nishigoori Takeshi woke up to the horrifying realisation that he had willingly handed Yuuri over to a foreigner whose face he couldn't even remember anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> after ep10: holy shit who'd have thunk there's an actual canon occurence of Yuuri's drunk shenanigans and subsequent memory loss


End file.
